Chapter 23: Hard Conversations
Broderick and I had worked through things surprisingly well the night I returned from California, which helped ease some of my anxiety about the next stop on my apology tour- meeting with Nate. But only some; I was leery that both exchanges could go so well. (Maybe I just didn’t think I deserved them to.)
The relatively small knot in my stomach grew until the following afternoon when I met Nate at a pub we used to enjoy together. I thought a familiar location would make things easier for us but the memories it brought up fueled hidden pains instead. Nate had already been seated on the back patio, so the hostess escorted me to our table. Despite her being considerably shorter than me, I tried to disappear behind her on that fateful walk. Anything to buy myself a few extra seconds before facing my past. Once I was unable to hide anymore, I looked over her shoulder and saw Nate looking our way. Pressure weighed on my chest the moment I set eyes on him- the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. The pain was deep. There was no way I could eat lunch.
Nate stood and gave me a hug. We exchanged a few pleasantries before sitting back down and recounting a couple of our previous visits. Bittersweet was an understatement. The longer we walked down memory lane, the more I felt a burning need to address why I’d asked him to meet up. The weirdest part, though, was that I wasn’t entirely sure myself. I only knew I needed some sort of closure or clear understanding; to experience an indescribable shift from our time together.
I struggled miserably, but I did my best to start the discussion about how we’d ended things nearly a year earlier. “I asked you to lunch because I wanted to apologize,” my heart pumped so vigorously, I could barely hear my own thoughts over the thunderous palpitations, “for not sticking around.” From what I saw in my periphery Nate appeared to want to weigh in. I asked him to let me finish while I felt able to. “I’m sorry life turned out the way it did for us. And caused so much pain along the way. I don’t know where we’d be now if I’d stayed…, but I’m sorry if it seems I didn’t fight hard enough for us.” It was breezy outside, so my hair kept blowing in my face as I spoke. I’d hoped that was enough to mask the tears I was fighting back.
He reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. Comforted, I looked up at his kind eyes while he stated his piece, “Don’t blame yourself. I don’t. We each played a role in the outcome,” he offered with conviction. “Do I wish things could’ve been different? Of course,” he squeezed my hand in an all too familiar way before leaning back in his seat. I could tell there was more he wanted to say. He took a hearty swig of his iced tea before continuing, “But we were stuck in a bad place. We’d probably still be if you hadn’t stepped up. I should be thanking you for saying enough was enough,” his voice full of conviction, his face with disappointment.
“Wow. Thank you,” I was too stunned to form any significant thoughts, but I remember my heart hoping that his finding peace might help me do the same in time.
“I have to be honest- I didn’t get there on my own,” he tapped his finger nervously on his glass, “I’ve been going to therapy.”
And I thought I was stunned before! I reeled myself back in before an, “Oh yeah?” fell from my mouth.
“Sensei Kai called me out for bringing my personal stuff to the mat,” he stroked his forearm in a soothing manner, “It’s been helpful.”
“That’s wonderful. That you’ve found a way to work through things. I’m really happy for you.” And I truly was. He deserved the peace, and all the best life had to offer him.
“How about you? You takin’ care of yourself?” he shifted our attention.
“Well…,” I quickly scrolled through the highlights of the past year, and the recent shitshow of running away, before replying, “The best I know how,” I forced a smile to soothe both of our discomfort.
“That doesn’t sound convincing,” he tried to be lighthearted.
“I’ve been fortunate in the friend department. They’ve been a great help along the way. But, yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” my muscles started to relax after speaking the briefest version of my truth.
Our server stopped by to take Nate’s order before he was able to press further, “I’m guessing Broderick is one of them?”
I nodded while my muscles tensed back up.
“I’m glad he’s been around,” he offered with sincerity, then shifted in his seat.
Stress sweat started to form in response to the uneasiness. I felt it necessary to clarify, “I’ve been friends with him for nearly as long as I have with you,” I bit the inside of my cheek while thoughtfully choosing my next words, “and, similarly, our friendship has evolved over the years.” I sipped my ice water, allowing its chill to refresh my senses while I found the courage to add, “We’ve grown even closer these last several months- since I moved in with him,” my left hand nervously rubbed my thigh under the table.
Nate was quiet and calm.
I continued, hoping to somehow soften the news, “It was supposed to be a temporary solution, but it’s— It was never our plan to get together. Nor have we even been together,” I desperately needed him to know that, “but things are unfolding differently than I’d expected.” My heart ached so much at the thought that I was hurting him that I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. “I’m really sorry. You and I left things open-ended… and… wide open, really. No plans or intentions for the future. This is where I find- or, rather, we find ourselves,” my palms were sweaty, and my toes curled so tightly they dug into my sandals.
I only looked up at Nate when our server brought a fresh iced tea to the table. “Thank you,” Nate flashed a polite smile. I remained frozen as he moved his straw from the old glass to the new one and took a mouthful. He appeared satisfied, presumably with the tea, while I grew more anxious by the millisecond.
“You’re right. That is how we ended things,” his energy felt reserved. “Are you happy?”
“As I can be- given the circumstances,” I tried to will the pain away.
“Then I’m happy for you, too. He’s a solid guy. I know he cares about you,” his eyes a mix of all I was feeling inside.
“As am I, for you. I’m glad Kai’s been looking out for you,” I drowned the bitter truths in relief that he hadn’t been navigating our separation alone. Then I started picking at my napkin’s hem and mumbled, “Where do we go from here?” I didn’t have an answer, so it was bold of me to think Nate might.
After a thoughtful pause, he answered solemnly, “I don’t know.”
I took another sip of water during a pause of mutual consideration.
“I imagine most people would cut bait after separating. But we’ve been friends for longer than we haven’t. I can’t imagine life without you in it, in some capacity,” he said warmly before his lunch arrived. He mulled something over while my water was topped off, then shared the rest of his thoughts when we were alone again, “It might take some time, but would you be interested in rebuilding some sort of friendship? Even if at a distance,” he proposed with obvious vulnerability.
I was blown away by how much he’d grown in less than a year’s time. He’d always been sweet and kindhearted, but his new ease of expression astounded me. “I agree. Most people don’t look back. Probably because it’s so damn painful. That’s what tore us apart,” I replied with tension in my chest and fear that my subconsciously curated words were going to culminate in the end of us entirely. I took a breath before more flew out; words I hadn’t planned to say. Words I didn’t know were waiting in the wings. Words that represented thoughts and feelings I didn’t know were brewing inside of me. “I guess we get to decide whether we let that pain continue to keep us apart. To choose if we want to continue being most people or if we want to put in the work to salvage what we once had. Or redesign it.” I sampled a fry from his plate after he offered. Mostly to take a moment for myself. To process the relief that some part of me knew what to say. Knew how to throw a life preserver out to something that used to be precious to me, but which had gotten pummeled by the seas of ego and circumstance. “Do you think we can do it?” I asked as I licked the salt from my fingers. The childlike optimism in my heart wasn’t enough to stop my inner saboteur from immediately following with, “What about when we’re dating other people?” I was met with a tsunami of regret as soon as those words filled the air.
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But I think it could be worth it,” his eyes steady and secure as he replied.
“Nothing’s easy,” I said with odd relief, “but I’m open to trying. I guess we’ll let the other stuff come in time?” The indescribable shift I’d hoped to experience as a result of our conversation shifted in that moment, even before Nate had a chance to respond.
He took a slow, deep breath, as if to reconcile something deep within. “I s’pose so,” he spoke with a blend of solemnity and hope, like a parent sending their first born off to college.
“Should we toast to that? To saying goodbye to the old us and hello to the new- whatever that looks like?” I was still trying to fully grasp the notion. The scenario certainly wasn’t how I saw my life going when Nate and I started our journey together, but it felt like the best possible outcome for the path we’d chosen.
Despite my desire for peace and closure, my subconscious expected our conversation to fulfill its masochistic longings. To hear from Nate that I’d screwed up. For him to confirm how horrible I was for leaving. But none of that happened. In a miraculous turn of the tide, our exchange provided a glimmer of optimism instead.
We spent the rest of lunch catching up on life since we’d last seen each other and it honestly felt good. Little by little, the pain, nervousness, tension, anxiety, grief, and guilt that had consumed me for years was taking shape into something new. I had no idea how things would turn out for us but, for those moments in time, it felt like our wounds were healing. It felt like a tiny blessing being born out of the years of agony we’d endured. And we deserved it. We deserved relief from all we’d gone through. It felt even richer because it was mutual. Neither one of us was moving on faster or more successfully than the other. Just as we’d endured the grief together, we were healing together.